


deep soak

by 3ghosts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3ghosts/pseuds/3ghosts
Summary: Not many people outside of the royal family know the secret of the royal baths, cloistered away in a hidden part of the Citadel. Ignis is an exception. After rough training sessions, he enjoys spending time alone in the chamber’s heated pool to unwind and let the warm water soothe his sore muscles.It’s a nice routine. Until Noctis walks in one day with the same idea.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 32
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

“No, don’t even _try_ it, Noct. _Noct._ ”

Gladiolus’ angry warning from the sidelines comes a little too late, Ignis thinks, because a split-second later, Ignis has Noctis pinned to the ground with one knee digging into the prince’s stomach, and now Gladiolus is _seething_.

“I told you not to warp _towards_ him,” Gladio explodes, “he sees it coming a mile off! Your reflexes ain’t good enough for close combat with Ignis. You _know_ this. Mix it up, Noct!”

It’s the fifth time this has happened, Noctis going straight for the kill and ending up hard on his back, winded and yielding immediately. Ignis isn’t about to tell anyone how the fight should go—this is Gladio’s training session. Ignis is just here to stand in as a sparring partner and follow Gladio’s lead. Still, he knows Noctis is trying, and he knows Noctis is getting increasingly banged up, and he knows, by the look on Noctis’ face, that Noctis is about to start snapping back at Gladio very soon. So he gets to his feet, offers the prince a hand, and says, “Gladio, he’s tapping out. It’s me and you next.”

Gladio huffs, glaring at Noctis. “Fine. At least with _you_ I won’t have to go easy.”

“When do you ever go easy?”

And that’s how Ignis ends up with bruised ribs and Gladio ends up getting nicked twice on the same forearm by Ignis’ training blade. Gladio still gets the upper hand, and Ignis is down after a fairly evenly-matched fight.

“That’s how it’s done,” Gladio tells Noctis.

“Congratulations,” Noctis says, sounding entirely sarcastic about it. “Where do you want your trophy?”

“Why do I even bother with you,” Gladio growls. “Ignis, you’re dismissed. Noct, one more round with me before you can leave.”

Ignis sighs, picks himself off the floor and swipes some of his damp hair away from his face. He’s relieved that he can finally get out of here. Still. He looks at Noctis. “Need me to back you up?”

Noctis glances in his direction. “Nah, I’m good. Gonna trash him,” he says.

“Good luck.”

“Yeah. See you later.”

It doesn’t take long for Ignis to ascend the tower and get to the floor reserved only for royalty. Being the prince’s personal retainer, Ignis is one of a very select few outside of the royal family who has access to this level. And he’s personally been given permission to use the royal baths as and when he likes.

The day has been long, and he’s glad for the privacy he knows he’ll get at the baths. It’s always empty when he comes here after training, and it’s always a pleasure to soothe his aching muscles in the warm, healing waters here.

It’s a grand imitation of the indoor spas that many of Insomnia’s luxury hotels are famous for. The Citadel’s version is ridiculous in its opulence, with its cavernously high ceiling and gleaming surfaces of polished tile and glass, private steam and shower rooms walled with elegant dark marble, relaxing hydrotherapy jacuzzis, designer lounge chairs fringed with glowing lanterns that bathe everything in a soft glow, and, the bathhouse’s prized asset: the large thermal pool that sits in the middle of the chamber, hot and inviting, filled with mineral-rich water piped directly from the hot springs of outer Insomnia.

The pool stretches the length of the hall, every inch of it tiled in glossy black and glimmering gold. The shallow steps that lead into the pool are illuminated with sensually warm lighting, and the dark ceiling overhead shimmers with an impressive expanse of glittering light, a sophisticated replica of a twinkling starscape, resplendent in every way.

He strips down and drapes his gym clothes across one of the many plush lounge chairs, removes his glasses and leaves them folded on the table. There’s a stack of soft cotton towels dyed slate-grey, each embroidered with the geometric seal of Lucis in stark silver.

After a quick rinse in the showers, he stands by the pool and toes at the steamy water.

It is sultry and inviting.

He slowly steps into the pool, eases himself down into the hot water with care, and loosens a sigh when he finally submerges half of his body. He wades over to the other end of the pool and lounges against the steps for a moment, closes his eyes and breathes deeply.

He’s surrounded by the tranquil sloshing of the pool water, and after a moment, he feels every inch of his body relax in the all-encompassing heat. The air is moist, heavy. He feels a sheen of perspiration settle over his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids.

He must doze off for a moment, because it takes a confused few seconds for him to register the sounds of movement across the hall over the quiet whisper of the shifting waters around him, and his eyes snap open.

His heart does some weird, terrible thing in his chest when he sees Noctis standing by the entrance across the pool, looking rumpled and dishevelled. There’s clear surprise written on his face, and Ignis is sure his own face mirrors that emotion.

“When you said ‘see you later’, I didn’t think you meant in here,” he says, and he is, for a moment, somewhat glad that his voice hadn’t wavered. Not even slightly.

Noctis hovers for a moment by the doorway, then makes up his mind and makes his way further into the chamber, closes the distance to peer at the shifting waters of the shallow pool. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d, um. End up at the baths.” He sounds almost skittish when he says it. “I, uh, only just remembered about this place. Guessing you come here often?”

“Sometimes. Only after training. It’s always empty.” No one seems to remember this place exists.

Noctis nods, glances around slowly. He hasn’t really looked Ignis in the eye. He seems almost distracted. “Nice. I get why you like it.”

“I’ve never seen you come in before,” Ignis says. Which is a terrible lie. They’d both been here before, together. Younger days. Teenage days. Days they’ve never spoken of again.

Noctis finally looks at him, gaze steady. “I never liked coming here alone,” he says. And it looks like he means to say more, but he just shrugs and turns, slowly makes his way towards the stack of fresh towels.

Ignis sighs. “Well, I’m here.”

“What a coincidence,” Noctis says as he shucks off his clothing and dumps them near Ignis’ things. He grabs a towel and glances across the water at Ignis one more time before stalking past the pool and heading to the other end of the hall where the showers are.

Ignis hears the running water and shuts his eyes, sinks further into the pool and tries to clear his mind. It’s starting to get much too hot now, he thinks. His chest feels a little too tight.

He wonders if he should just get up and leave.

Noctis returns from the showers, hair dripping rivulets down his face and neck and chest, towel wrapped around his waist. He’s softly lit by the orange glow coming from the warm chamber lighting, damp skin gleaming honey-gold when he moves.

Noctis stands for a moment by poolside, looking down at Ignis. Ignis knows, from the way Noctis surveys him, that Noctis is thinking.

For all the vast space the royal bathhouse offers, it still feels awfully intimate to be in here with Noctis.

Noctis hesitates for a moment, then slips his towel off and steps closer to the water’s edge. Closer to Ignis.

Training definitely hit Noctis hard today, and Ignis is aware of that now more than ever. There’s a large bruise on Noctis’ hip, blossoming red and purple across his pale skin, another on his thigh, and another just underneath his collarbone. Ignis can see them from his perch in the water, even though Noctis is several feet away from him, and Ignis is horrified at himself when the urge to _touch_ them comes unbidden. He wants to run his fingers over them, wants to softly rub at the tender skin, wants—and oh gods how he _wants_ —to elicit some sort of reaction with his soothing touches. The bruises had to have been his fault, after all, and he’s never liked hurting Noctis.

“You’re in quite a damaged state,” Ignis says, driving the thoughts away.

Noctis looks down at himself, then back at Ignis. “Yeah, thanks for that,” he says, and thank goodness he’s at least smiling about it.

“Was I too hard on you?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I wasn’t being smart today.”

“Didn’t feel like taking cues from Gladio?”

“I don’t always have to listen to him. Anyway, my reflexes aren’t as terrible as he thinks they are.”

It has to be said. “Noct, I had you on your back five times in a row. You didn’t last ten seconds each round.”

Noctis shrugs a shoulder and winces visibly at the movement. “Thought I’d catch you off your guard at least once,” he says.

Ignis doesn’t miss the grimace of pain. “Get in the water, Noct. The heat will help with the soreness.”

Noctis hesitates a moment longer, then climbs into the pool, one step at a time, cautious and slow. He sends gentle waves rippling and undulating across the water toward Ignis, and when his feet finally find the bottom, water swirling around his torso, Ignis doesn’t miss the deep sigh that escapes the prince.

“It’s a lot warmer than I remember it being,” Noctis says. He wades over to Ignis slowly.

Ignis lets Noctis settle next to him, lets him sink a little lower to press his back against the tile, and he watches closely as Noctis squares his shoulders experimentally. “The heat will boost your blood circulation,” he says, “and ease some of the muscle pain.”

Noctis splashes some of the water around. “Yep, feels pretty good.”

They sit there in silence for a moment, listening to the water lap against the edges of the pool. Noctis is near enough that Ignis can feel the currents of his magic pulsing around them, subtle and pleasant. Almost unbearably so. 

“How did the last round with Gladio go?” Ignis asks, not because he’s overly curious, but because he feels the desperate need to fill the silence with something, and, well, he needs a safe topic to settle on to distract him from the fact that Noctis has decided to move _so close_. It already feels like he’s committed treason for seeing his prince so naked, even though this is hardly the first time Noctis has been in his presence without any clothes on. 

“Better than you think.”

“Really?”

“Nope, not really.”

Ignis rolls his eyes. “Perhaps you should have taken me up on the offer to stay and assist.”

“Ha. Like you wanted to stick around and watch me get yelled at.”

“A favourite pastime of mine,” Ignis says.

“Rude.” Noctis elbows him in the side, and Ignis knows it means to be playful, but the action makes Noctis hiss. “Ow.”

“All right?” Ignis’ worry spikes. Perhaps he should have pulled his punches today.

Noctis frowns. “No. Shoulder’s stiff.” He brings a hand up to prod at the area above his clavicle with two fingers. “Maybe you can take a look?”

Against his better judgement, Ignis moves closer. He lifts a hand and presses it gently against Noctis’ shoulder, fingers pushing softly against the flesh there, thumb kneading small circles against the tightness he feels. “You’ve worked your muscles into knots.”

“Someone pushed me too far today.”

Ignis laughs a little, and manoeuvres around Noctis—Noctis pushes away from the wall and moves to give him some room—and Ignis reaches for the other shoulder, moving further into Noctis’ personal space. Noctis’ back is now almost flush against Ignis. His fingers tighten involuntarily against Noctis’ damp skin, and then he stops moving, drops his hands immediately because _what is he doing?_

“Um. Ignis?

“Your Highness.” He doesn’t move, but he desperately tries to put distance between them all the same. It’s a terrible decision, because he’s many _years_ too late when it comes to putting distance between him and the prince.

Noctis doesn’t call him out on the title. He asks for something instead. “You could, you know, uh, help me ease the tension. If that’s something you, um—” Noctis purses his lips and glances up at something across the water. “We have some oils in here, by the massage tables.”

There are indeed plush massage tables at the other end of the pool, arranged in neat rows by the water’s edge, surrounded by large, softly-lit globes of light in the shape of small moons. Nearby, there are marble shelves stocked with a collection of body oils, expensive lotions, scented gels, little bottles of them all lined up in neat rows.

It’s a mistake waiting to happen.

“Noctis.”

“No, okay, let’s just— let’s just sit.” Noctis scoots away from Ignis and sinks further into the water.

There’s a reason why they’ve never come back to the royal baths together in the first place, a reason why Ignis has tried so hard to keep Noctis from ever moving past the confines of their complex relationship, because he knows it will blur into something _much_ messier.

And yet.

“I didn’t say no, Noct. If you need me to, I will gladly help in any way I can.”

Noctis actually startles at that. “Oh.” He looks surprised and a little pleased. “Ah, yeah. Yeah, Ignis. I’d like that. Um. We can go over there.”

Better to be out of the water. It’s definitely too hot in here now.

When they step out of the pool, Ignis takes care to wrap himself in a towel, and Noctis does the same, before they move over to the massage tables. Noctis somewhat awkwardly climbs onto one of them and arranges himself as comfortably as he can, lies down flat on his stomach, and Ignis goes through the bottles on the shelf.

The extensive range of oils on offer makes it hard for him to choose, so Ignis selects something he’s familiar with—a silky, body-warming deep tissue massage oil with a slight sandalwood scent that he’s used on himself before—and he gets to work.

Gingerly, he pushes his fingertips into the knotted muscle above and around Noctis’ shoulder blades as soothingly as he can, slowly makes his way across the trapezius zone inch by inch. The soft woody fragrance of the oil wafts through the humid air, heady and intoxicating.

“Smells amazing,” Noctis says, low and easy.

“I’ll remember to get some for you,” Ignis promises.

His fingers skirt the terrible scar close to Noctis’ spine, knitted flesh raised higher and darker than the rest of his pale skin. He’s aware the scar no longer causes pain to Noctis in any way, but he knows it’s still a sensitive area, the skin stretched thin and delicate. There are small bruises here, too, from training. He avoids those even more actively, but Noctis starts to squirm at his apparent hesitation.

“You can go a little harder, Iggy. I’m not gonna break.” 

Ignis inhales deeply, tries to ground himself, and spreads his fingers wider against the plane of Noctis’ back. _He’s not going to break._

He finds Noctis’ pressure points easily enough, finds that he has to loosen plenty of knots. Noctis makes pleased noises every time Ignis massages at a particularly tense spot. Noctis feels warm and firm underneath his hands.

They’d ramped up the prince’s physical training as soon as he’d graduated from high school, and he might not be able to best Ignis in a close-quarter fight yet, but he’s certainly built strength over the last several months. He’s all lean muscle where it counts, and Ignis has had to train himself to avoid noticing how attractively fit his prince has become, but it’s a little hard to do that now, with the evidence right in front of him. 

He moves lower, just beneath the lowest point of his scar, and Noctis has an intense reaction to that. The sound he makes is alarming enough for Ignis to think he’s hurt Noctis in some way.

“Did I—Noct, are you all right?”

“Sorry, yeah. No, I’m okay,” Noctis says quickly, and he sounds odd, his breathing uneven.

Ignis continues to gently knead at the tension in his lower back in apology, thumbing him slowly with low pressure, and it elicits softer sounds from Noctis this time. Sounds that Ignis steadfastly tries not to think about while he pushes his fingers into Noctis’ damp skin.

“Aaah, you’re good at this,” Noctis groans out, shifting on the table, back muscles flexing. The satisfaction that fills Noctis’ voice hits Ignis a little harder than he expects. It thrills him, how he can please Noctis so easily.

“I’ve always been quite good with my hands,” Ignis says with a smile. He presses deeply into Noctis, feels Noctis shudder under his fingertips _._ The towel is still wrapped loosely around Noctis’ hips, and Ignis carefully avoids going anywhere past that point.

Once Noctis has quietened down and Ignis is pretty sure he’s turned the prince into a bundle of relaxed nerves, he slows his ministrations and brings them to a stop. Noctis is so suspiciously quiet that Ignis wonders if he’s put him to sleep—but no, Noctis slowly lifts his head to look blearily at Ignis. For a second, he looks dazed, almost vulnerably confused. But the expression disappears quickly and is replaced by something sharp and resentful.

Noctis sits himself up and Ignis staggers back a little to let Noctis swing his legs over the edge of the table and onto the floor.

He watches Noctis turn his back and walk away from him, watches Noctis cross the distance to the lounge chairs where their things are.

Helpless, heart beating fast enough to hurt, Ignis follows.

He watches Noctis get dressed, watches him throw his towel into the used bin, watches him stand there with his hands clenched tight at his sides. It takes an age before Noctis turns to him and says, “Why did we ever stop coming in here together?”

_Oh, Noct._

He’d known, as soon as Noctis stepped foot into the royal baths, that they’d have this conversation. Still, he doesn’t want it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Highness.”

“... Is it such a dirty secret that we have to pretend it never happened?”

 _No, Noct, please don’t do this._ “Noctis, we were silly teenage boys.”

“And you kissed me.”

“And it was a mistake,” Ignis says before he can stop himself, and he regrets the words immediately, because Noctis had _kissed back_ , and Noctis had liked it, and Noctis had wanted it as much as Ignis had, and they _couldn’t,_ and Ignis swore never to bring Noctis in here ever again. And he’d broken his heart for it.

Bringing all of this up just makes Ignis feel like he’s gone and done it again.

“Glad you believe it,” Noctis mutters, turning away finally.

Ignis reaches out and grabs Noctis by the arm, holds him there, holds him still. He can’t possibly turn back time, but he can at least fix some of the hurt he’d inflicted on Noctis. 

He kisses Noctis, hard, and Noctis doesn’t even miss a beat, only shoves him into one of the lounge chairs and sucks hungrily at his lips. His hand finds Noctis’, they intertwine fiercely, almost painfully, when Noctis crushes his fingers in a grip that leaves Ignis gasping.

It’s aggressive and frantic, and Ignis feels a deep ache inside of him, feels something low in his gut draw taut.

Noctis has him uncomfortably pinned to the chair; he’s licking deep into Ignis’ mouth, and Ignis has to try excruciatingly hard not to buck his hips into Noctis.

They’re both breathing heavily when they break apart. And it takes a long time for them to sit up, an even longer time for them to look each other in the eye. 

“Another mistake?” Noctis says quietly, when he pulls back further. There’s a simmering emotion in his words that Ignis cannot quite read—anger, maybe. Sadness.

“No,” Ignis says, low and urgent. “I didn’t mean what I said. It was _never_ a mistake.” He wants so desperately for Noctis to see—he wants Noctis, he’s always wanted Noctis.

Noctis looks at him for a moment. His lips are red and wet and raw. And he eventually untangles himself from Ignis, stands, but Ignis doesn’t let go of him, keeps him there.

“I’m sorry, Noct. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Noctis squeezes his hand once, then forces Ignis to let him go. “I know,” he says, simply. “I know you didn’t.”

It feels like acceptance, or some small gift of forgiveness, but Ignis doesn’t trust himself to say anything more.

“Thanks for the back rub. It was really nice.” Noctis sounds sincere, and it makes Ignis want to kiss him again, makes him want to feel that too-desperate grip of Noctis’ hand clutching his. 

“I…” Ignis tries to form some semblance of coherent thought as he watches Noctis make for the exit. “Anytime, Noct.”

“Holding you to that,” Noctis says, and he waves. “See you at dinner, yeah?”

He leaves with a smile and Ignis is left wondering if he should have another quick shower to cool himself off.

He knows this will not be the last time he meets Noctis alone in the baths. 


	2. Chapter 2

The second time they run into each other in the baths, Ignis knows it’s not an accident.

He’s more than prepared himself for the inevitability of it, of having Noctis come to visit him in the dimly-lit cavern of this forgotten sanctuary, where he knows they’ll at least be safe from prying eyes. Or so he hopes.

Nevertheless, the sight of Noctis slinking into the chamber sends a deep, carnal sort of thrill through Ignis.

After lounging in the shallows of the pool for a full half-hour, he hadn’t been entirely sure Noctis would show up today.

“Oh. Good, you’re here,” Noctis comments when he spots Ignis. He walks over, graceful even in his windswept state, and Ignis can see that he’s in his dark gym clothes. There’s a new rip in one of the sleeves, so Ignis knows he’s just come straight from training.

The tone in Noctis’ voice is deceptively casual.

Ignis leans back in the water and raises an eyebrow. “Did you need something?” he asks lightly, and tries not to think about how Noctis is making him feel right now—nervous, on edge, secretly _expectant_ in a way he’s never been before.

It’s been three days since the kiss. Three days since Ignis’ complete and utter surrender to this boy. Noctis is his one and only weakness, and he doesn’t want it any other way.

Noctis eyes him, observes him keenly as he hovers by the edge of the pool, and there’s a lopsided grin on his face, wry and amused. “Careful with that question, Ignis. I might be tempted to ask for something you aren’t prepared to give.”

_Three days_. And while nothing on the surface has changed, there’s a new kind of awareness between them—an acknowledgement that the both of them want to move forward and act on this clandestine, exhilarating _something_ between them. It’s smoldering and impatient. It paces like a caged animal. And it’s maddening.

_I’m prepared to give you everything,_ Ignis wants to say. “Try me,” he says instead, because he too can play coy with Noctis.

Noctis fixes him with a look, expression suddenly more open than Ignis expects. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’d really like to.”

It’s a simple thing, then, for Noctis to strip himself of all his clothing and join Ignis in the warm pool, the gentle splish-splash of his movements echoing across the hall.

As always, he is every incarnation of temptation in Ignis’ eyes, laid bare before him, provoking the most unsolicited thoughts.

Noctis’ pale skin is peppered with little blue-black marks, many of them Ignis recognises from their last training session, but Ignis’ eyes are drawn to other things. Other beautiful things. Less innocent things.

Noctis settles a little ways away from him, along the same step that Ignis is perched on, and it’s probably not his intention, but Noctis has chosen a rather calculated spot to sit. This way, the soft glow emanating from the submerged lights that line the depths of the dark-tiled pool washes across Noctis’ body in an entirely provocative manner. Ignis sees every part of him illuminated in the shifting waters.

“You weren’t at training today,” Noctis says pointedly, once he’s made himself comfortable. It doesn’t sound like an accusation, more a curious observation.

Well.

“I had to attend an important Crownsguard induction meeting with the marshal,” Ignis says by way of apology. “You were probably informed.”

Ignis had indeed been holed up in Cor’s office all afternoon discussing the onboarding procedure of a particular joinee. Usually, Ignis is never privy to the pre-planning of recruitment. But Prompto Argentum is a special case, and his enrolment would be an informal one, Cor had explained. More importantly, Prompto would be assigned as a member of Noctis’ personal retinue, as per Noctis’ own request. As such, Ignis would need to be involved in the actual screening.

“Oh, yeah. Right. That was today, huh?” Noctis nods once and shrugs. “Well, you missed out. I did some pretty cool stuff. _And_ I didn’t get yelled at.” He smirks. “Starting to think Gladio only puts on his shouting voice when you’re around, like he’s posturing or something.”

“That’s hardly necessary for someone like him.”

“Maybe he feels threatened by you.”

Ignis is startled into a laugh. “Threatened by me?”

“You know—maybe he’s jealous. He’s meant to be my personal trainer, but you upstage him on the floor sometimes.”

“If anything, he should be relieved there’s someone to share the burden.”

Noctis looks mock-affronted. “You’re calling me a burden, now? Thanks.”

It’s so easy to lose himself in the banter, and for a moment Ignis is reminded of just how much he and Noctis truly get along, regardless of lapses in judgement, regardless of the volatile feelings between them. Noctis is his friend. Has always been, since childhood. He’s never forgotten this, but when you’re all grown up, life gets in the way of the simple things. The important things.

Noctis eyes him. “You still haven’t explained, though. You weren’t _at_ training. So why are you here? I mean, you said you only come here after...?”

Ignis doesn’t have a good answer for that, but he can at least be truthful. “Perhaps,” he says, slow and meaningful, “I was hoping to find company.”

Noctis considers him for a moment. “You were waiting for me,” he says at last. And there’s a pleased look on his face.

“Yes, well, you did tell me you never liked being here alone.”

At this, Noctis inches a little closer. “No one likes being alone,” he says, voice low, gaze hot and unblinking.

“No,” Ignis agrees, and he knows they’re acknowledging something far deeper than just being alone in the baths. “There’s nothing worse.” He glances down at the space between them—at the severe lack of it. “So,” he says, “here I am.”

“Mm. Here you are.”

There’s nothing accidental about the way Noctis brushes up against him in the swirling water, then. Nothing accidental about the way he slides one hand, featherlight, against Ignis’ thigh.

When Noctis starts to caress along the more sensitive parts of his upper leg, Ignis knows he can still turn back, can still gently reject these deliberate advances.

But he doesn’t refuse his prince.

And it’s painfully addictive, the way Noctis looks at him now, wild and wanting. So _impossibly_ wanting. He itches to respond to Noctis’ touches. And it’s like Noctis knows what Ignis is thinking, because he surges forward, lithe and agile, and the next thing Ignis knows, Noctis’ hands are on his shoulders and he’s straddling Ignis on the step, and he’s softly kissing Ignis on the mouth.

Water swirls around them, warm and turbulent, but Ignis only thinks about the soft press of Noctis’ lips on his, the slippery slide of Noctis’ sweetly spread thighs pressing down against him.

It’s a different sort of kiss. This time it’s agonisingly slow and unhurried, Noctis’ hands trailing down from Ignis’ shoulders and coming to rest lightly against his chest. It is the complete opposite of the last kiss they’d shared. This time, Noctis doesn’t push or demand anything, doesn’t try to fight for Ignis’ attention. Because Noctis now knows he doesn’t have to. Ignis would gladly give anything to Noctis.

And so Noctis floods him with a torrent of passion, soft and slow and wickedly tender. His tongue teases into Ignis’ mouth, exploring and tasting, and Ignis can’t help but grab at Noctis’ slim hips to pull him closer, to slot Noctis’ bare body against him, almost on top of him.

It’s hardly a secret when he reacts strongly to Noctis’ advances, and when his erection presses up against the base of Noctis, Noctis makes a small noise at the back of his throat and deepens the kiss. It feels sinful, it feels like _torture_ , to have the prince perched so intimately on top of him.

And when they break apart, Ignis feels the loss of heat between them immediately. And Noctis looks incredibly gorgeous, dark hair falling into his eyes, expression suddenly shy.

They stare at each other in silence for a moment. And then Noctis pulls away a little.

“Was that okay?” he murmurs, the pads of his fingers lingering on Ignis’ damp skin, ghosting along his collarbones.

Ignis nods. “Yes, Noct.” He whispers it.

“Just checking,” Noctis says, and there’s a note in his voice there, like he’s probing, like he’s reminding Ignis of something.

“Don’t hold back,” Ignis says, because he knows he’s given reason to before. But that was then and this is now. “Please.”

Noctis smiles a little and extricates himself from Ignis’ lap, wades a few feet backwards in the eddying water, and observes Ignis silently.

Ignis wonders at this for a moment, wonders if he’d said something wrong or strange. Then, he notices the way Noctis is biting at his lip.

“So, um,” Noctis eventually murmurs, “I could... really use another back rub.” And he’s looking at Ignis now with such intensity that Ignis doesn’t mistake the intention there. “You know,” he continues, “if - if you want to... keep touching me.”

Ignis’ gaze involuntarily flickers toward the massage tables down the other end of the pool.

“You can use that really nice massage oil that I like,” Noctis says, soft and low. “You can... go slow.”

It’s incredible, how bold Noctis is. And heat rushes aggressively through Ignis, pools low in his stomach. He is undeniably, _unapologetically_ , seduced into submission.

“Come with me, then,” he says, and he takes Noctis by the hand.

They don’t bother to dry off, and they don’t bother with towels or modesty. Ignis sifts through the collection of scented oils and creams and gels. There are additional supplies here that are definitely more than just for sensual massages and spa treatments.

Noctis sits himself on the edge of one of the wider massage tables, leans back on his hands to survey Ignis for a moment. He’s completely naked, legs carelessly falling open, and he looks positively obscene this way, splayed before him, the evidence of his arousal on full display.

Ignis wants to push him down and kiss him again, but he settles for moving closer and uncapping the oil.

“Shall we begin?” Ignis says.

“Yeah,” Noctis replies, eager.

“Turn over, then.”

Noctis does as he’s told, settles himself on the soft mattress, stomach-down. His back is damp and gleaming with flecks of pool water.

“Don’t hold back,” Noctis says, throwing Ignis’ own words back at him. He flexes his shoulder muscles and squirms a little on the spot to get comfortable.

Ignis spreads a good amount of oil across Noctis’ soft skin, works out the kinks and knots in Noctis’ neck, his upper arms, his upper back. It takes a while to soothe away the bunched-up tightness he feels underneath.

“Gladio made you work today,” he observes.

Noctis makes an irritated sound. “Specs, I _so_ don’t wanna be thinking about Gladio right now.”

“No,” Ignis agrees, and he presses his fingers deeper. “Of course.”

“Gods.” Noctis groans and shifts his hips. “Ignis.” He’s a lot more vocal today, a lot more physical when he reacts.

Ignis isn’t shy this time. His hands move across the dips and curves of Noctis’ back without hesitation. He sweeps his fingers lightly over the raised tissue of his scar, brushes gently at the sensitive skin there, and Noctis’ breathing suddenly turns heavy when Ignis starts to palm along the scar in soft, deliberate strokes.

“Noct. Relax.” Ignis moves his hands even lower, fingers skimming over his tailbone and down to the cleft of Noctis’ rump, smearing warm oil across his soft skin.

Noctis arches his back, spreads his legs slightly apart, and starts to slowly rock his hips against the cushioned mattress underneath him as Ignis massages deep and gentle all at once. “ _Ignis_.”

The name is said urgently now, almost a sob, and he knows what Noctis wants, but at the same time, he needs to be sure.

“What do you want, Noct?”

“Can you— can you— _fuck_ , Ignis, I want you.”

“How do you want me?”

“ _Inside_.”

It floors Ignis, just how honest Noctis is. Just how trusting Noctis is. And he feels a sharp spike of arousal slam into him. Noctis begging so sweetly, composure torn and frayed, is something he’s only ever encountered in his wildest dreams.

Ignis kneads at him carefully with his hands, slowly spreads him apart and traces a finger between his cheeks, brushes _there_ just lightly. Noctis shivers at the intimate contact, and Ignis does it again. And again.

“Please,” Noctis hisses.

He smooths more oil onto his fingers, coats them liberally to the knuckles.

Noctis makes a soft, breathy “ _oh_ ” when Ignis presses one slick finger inside him. Noctis is all silky heat and clinging tightness, sensitive walls desperately clenching and flexing around Ignis’ finger. And he chokes out a deep moan as Ignis works him open with slow and shallow thrusts, slicks up his twitching insides until he feels some of the tightness ease. He adds a second finger and pushes in deeper, adds a third and spreads him gently apart. And he works Noctis open until he has Noctis gasping and gripping the edge of the massage table with one hand. And when Noctis starts to push back and grind up into Ignis’ fingers frantically, he knows Noctis wants more. 

He removes his fingers and quickly prepares himself, polishes his stiff cock with oil until it drips and glistens. It doesn’t take long for him to flip Noctis onto his back and pull his legs apart, pull him close. Noctis is nothing but obscenely flexible when he spreads his legs and brings his knees up, and the table is just the height Ignis needs to lift Noctis’ hips so that the tip of his slicked-up cock nudges at Noctis’ entrance.

And when he slides his cock into Noctis’ willing hole, it’s incredible. Tight _, hot_. But Noctis takes all of Ignis inside him readily, almost greedily, and Noctis snaps his head back and cries out a sharply erotic sound at the penetration. Has to brace himself with both hands.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Noctis groans.

Ignis goes even slower this time, gives Noctis time to completely adjust to the sensation of his full cock sheathed inside him before he starts to move in small increments.

“Don’t tease,” Noctis gasps softly, legs trembling. “I can take it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it,” Noctis says, louder this time. “ _Please_.”

Ignis hesitates a moment longer before he complies.

The pace he sets is indulgent, his thrusts deep and sensual, his steady rhythm filling the heavy air with thick, pornographic sounds of skin slapping against skin. And he relishes in the solid heat and gratifying tightness of Noctis, relishes in the way Noctis takes all of him so willingly.

And Noctis looks so exposed, so vulnerable, staring at him from under dark lashes, eyes half-lidded and expression explicitly overwhelmed, panting out urgent moans every time Ignis drives his hips forward and back. Ignis grips Noctis tighter, angles his hips a little higher, and he’s sinking deeper into Noctis, hitting him in just the right spot. _Ah—! Ig-Ignis, haa— fuck...! Gods, so deep in...side me Ignis, ah— nngh Ignis!_ The sounds are hot and filthy, and gods, Noctis is glorious like this, open-mouthed and needy, cheeks flushed from the heat, eyes fluttering, knees bent, cock indecently swollen and leaking all over himself. So pliant and submissive in this state, and to be the one filling Noctis so deeply, to be the one fucking him so open, coaxing such delightful gasps and cries from him—it’s sordid, _divine_.

He’s aware of how loud Noctis is being. The entire chamber echoes with his desperate sounds, and he hopes no one walks in on them like this. He can’t imagine anyone taking it lightly if they come across the crown prince being fucked in the baths by his chamberlain.

“Touch yourself, Noct,” he says, fingers digging into Noctis’ shaking thighs, because he wants to see it. He wants to see Noctis lose himself in his own pleasure, wants to watch his prince spill all over himself while Ignis is buried deep inside him.

Noctis braces himself with one hand on the mattress, brings his other hand between his legs and wraps shaky fingers around himself. “Won’t... last long,” he says, voice raw, and it takes just five seconds of quick jerks before he comes with an intensely drawn-out moan, cock shooting thick pulsing streaks across his belly.

The sight of Noctis looking so completely wrecked makes Ignis come immediately after with a wordless shout, hips snapping a rough, erratic rhythm as he rides out the most intense orgasm of his life.

It takes a long few seconds for his head to clear, and he’s still breathing harsh and fast when he loosens his grip on Noctis’ thighs and slowly pulls out of Noctis. His legs feel weak and unsteady, but he can see Noctis has turned into a boneless heap in front of him.

They’re both covered in sweat.

It takes longer for them to speak.

“That—” Noctis swallows, speech deserting him for a second. “Ignis,” he tries again, “that was fucking amazing,” he slurs out. His voice is dry and hoarse from choking out Ignis’ name like a prayer. “Felt good. _So_ good.”

“I hope I didn’t add any bruises to your collection,” Ignis says, hands smoothing down along the inside of Noctis’ soft thighs. “You have more than enough.”

“Fuck, Ignis, mark me all you want. Yours are the ones I wanna keep.”

And Ignis lowers Noctis’ legs and bends forward to kiss him. Because Noctis is a ridiculous prince. _His_ ridiculous prince. And Noctis kisses back enthusiastically, like he’s so incredibly drunk on post-sex bliss, and Ignis can’t help but laugh into his mouth. ”Didn’t think you were into that sort of thing,” he murmurs.

“Now you know,” Noctis whispers, tongue darting out to lick flirtatiously along the bottom of Ignis’ lip. “For next time.”

And it sends a shiver down his spine, that Noctis wants a next time. Possibly _many_ next times.

“I’ll try to remember it,” he says.

And there’s enough time for them to share another moment under the spray of the showers. Enough time to press Noctis up against the cool marble walls and trade aching touches and urgent kisses and breathless cries with him.

There’s enough time for them to do it again and again and again, because after this, Noctis never comes into the royal baths alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't tweet often, but you can find me on twitter: [@_3ghosts](https://twitter.com/_3ghosts).


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